


Unintended, Unexpected

by Ravenspear



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Egg!fic, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-28
Updated: 2010-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-14 04:26:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/145356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravenspear/pseuds/Ravenspear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unplanned pregnancy is terrifying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unintended, Unexpected

When it begins he feels distantly grateful that John is not there, that Dean and Sam are at school. Slightly less distant is the relief that it caught him in bed, that he was already lying down.

The pain is agonizing, vicious heat racing up his spine and out across his wings in violent pulses, and it's so terrible he can't even scream, can't even _breathe_ , just curl up, let his body arch and spasm as his wings burn and burn and burn for what feels like _hours_ , pouring concentrated Grace into a shape he can't remember enough to name right now, and he _wishes_ he'd just _die_.

And then, with a final _awful_ paroxysm, it's over, and he's free to slump bonelessly against the mattress, draw shaky breaths, drag trembling fingers through sweat-slick hair, and curse softly in a language he hasn't spoken since he left Sigyn behind in a cave deep beneath the Earth.

He half doesn't want to turn around, but he does, his entire body a protesting ache, and there it is. It's smaller than he remembers, but just as blue; beautiful and frail-looking against the white sheets. Without thinking, reacting on pure instinct, he reaches out, draws that lovely, _fantastic_ little egg closer, curls around it, nestles it to his heart.

It's a daughter, he knows as much, and when he closes his eyes, he sees a blonde little girl with John's eyes.

He loves her, this little thing that barely exists yet.

 _You can't keep her_ , is his next thought, and it's like ice in his veins. And it's true, he _can't_ keep her; can't raise another child when he was barely a father at all to the six he's already had, can't raise a naphal with all its destructive power in this house with Dean and Sam and John. (Oh, Helsgåla, _John_.)

The sudden sorrow drives a keening sound from his throat, and he curls that much tighter around his precious little treasure.

He has to let her go.

But not yet. He just needs a little while longer.

\---

John is tired when he comes home, and he's never been so happy in his life that Friday means the boys are at Mark and Lizzie's for the evening; all he wants right now is some food, and to fall into bed and stay there for the next twelve hours.

John is tired when he comes home, but not tired enough to not realize that something is really wrong. All signs that Loki has been up and about are absent; there are still dishes left from breakfast, the television and radio are both silent, and when he checks the back door, Mars Bar is there, looking pitiful and unhappy with being locked out.

It's with rising alarm that he lets the dog in, gives him an extra scoop of kibble as compensation.

 _He's left, finally_ , a voice in John's mind says. _He grew bored, like you've always known he would, and now he's gone._

It's with a calm he doesn't feel that he checks the washing room, the study, the bathroom, walks up the stairs and checks every room along the corridor until he reaches the bedroom ( _their_ bedroom).

He is torn between relief and worry when he pushes the door open, sees Loki curled up, knees to his chest, back to the door. "Loki?"

And yeah, something is definitely wrong, because Loki _flinches_ at his voice, and Loki never flinches at _anything_.

"What's wrong?" he asks as he steps inside, moves around the bed.

Loki is a mess, his hair is unwashed and disheveled, and he smells like dried sweat. He stares unseeing at the wall, and he looks like he's _sick_ , and John has no idea if gods _get_ sick, and if they _do_ , how to go about them getting _better_ again.

"Loki?" he says as soft as he can, kneels down by the side of the bed and smooths fingers through the trickster's hair. "What's wrong?"

"I should have gotten rid of it," Loki says, and his voice is dead, inflectionless and dull. "I almost did, almost burned it up right here. But I couldn't."

"What are you talking about? Loki, you're worrying me," John says, and it's all kinds of true, the panic rising in his throat again.

And Loki finally looks at him, and his eyes are so full of grief John can't breathe for a second. "I ruined everything," Loki says, tries for a smile, but ends up just looking heartbroken.

"Loki, what did you _do?"_

Loki unfurls on the bed, knees pulling back from his chest, and his arms do too, and there's flash of blue and...

Oh.

"Is..." John starts, doesn't know what to think, say, in the face of this. "Is it yours?"

Loki nods, runs careful fingers along the surface of it. "Yeah," he answers, voice soft and wavering.

"And mine." John says, and it's not a question, because he _knows_.

"Yeah."

"Why... Why were you going to destroy it?" he asks, and tries not to be angry, tries not to be furious that Loki would have made that decision on his own, because Loki must have _reasons_ for what he thinks he should have done, especially when he looks this griefstricken by it.

"She won't be human," Loki explains. "And she'll be dangerous. And I..." His face twists into something that's hard to look at, but John does, because this is what he chose. "I've _done_ this before, John. It doesn't end well. Not for her, not for you, not for Sam and Dean."

"And for you?"

"Who _cares_ about me?" Loki spits. "I live. I survive. Everything and everyone around me falls apart, but I somehow always go on."

"I care about you," John says, and doesn't choke on the words, like he might have not very long ago at all.

"That just makes it _worse_ ," Loki sighs.

John is quiet for a while, thinks, considers. "I think we should try," he says finally, because he _does_ , because this is his _child_ lying snug against Loki's chest, because he doesn't think this thing between them can survive ending that little life, because he's not sure _Loki_ can.

John is selfish. He knows this. But right now, he thinks that might be for the best.

"You don't even know what you're talking about," Loki says, angry and disparaging, but there is hope brightening his eyes.

"You'll tell me," John promises, and he is sure of that, adamantly sure. "You'll prepare me for what to expect. And we'll do this," he goes on, covers Loki's hands on the egg with his own. "We can do this, together."

"You're insane," Loki says, but it sounds like _"thank you."_

"If I wasn't, you wouldn't have stuck around," John replies, and that sounds suspiciously like _"I love you."_


End file.
